


Surviving is the First Step

by HelaMarvelous



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, But mostly angst, Canonical Character Death, Civil War Team Iron Man, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony-centric, although with these two those things are one and the same, who am I kidding this is pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelaMarvelous/pseuds/HelaMarvelous
Summary: Tony stared, stone cold with shock, as Stephen’s head bowed in sorrow, his final words ringing through the air. He braced himself for the inevitable moment his newfound ally- his newfound friend, would fade away just as the others had.Except, that he didn’t.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to give an enormous thanks to my beautiful Betas, Moki and Erja for being such huge help and never giving up on me. -Links to their Archives are in the notes down below. Enjoy <3

The mechanic stared slack-jawed as Stephen’s head bowed in sorrow, bracing himself to watch his newfound ally fade away just as the others had. Except that he didn’t.

The relief of the Doctor’s continuing solidity was short-lived;

“Mr. Stark?” Came from behind his back, and if Tony hadn’t recognized the overly formal title- spoken so often by the same voice in awe- he’d recognize anywhere the gasping breaths that followed as those that haunted his dreams. “I don’t feel so good.”

“You’re alright.” He spoke, wanting, needing to believe it.

“I don’t know- I don’t know what’s happening…” Peter didn’t, but he did, “I don’t understand…” Tony understood, but God he wished he didn’t.

Pete fell bonelessly into his arms and it was all he could do to try and keep the kid upright as he clutched with _too little_ strength. Peter had super-strength, yet his grip was as fragile as a child’s- as fragile as the child that he was underneath it all.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go…” he begged, “Sir please,”

Pete never called him Sir, not after that first time when he had been so absorbed in his work it had caught him off guard and had him flinching back before he caught himself, stuck on the memories of years gone by. Peter had never asked about it, but he had never called him Sir again, not even by accident.

“Please, I don’t wanna go…” the young hero’s voice finally broke along with Tony’s own composure, “I don’t wanna go…” his knees buckled, but he managed awkwardly to get Peter’s body horizontal gently as he could.

He was still holding the kid- he didn’t dare let him go- when their eyes met, both brimming with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, always apologizing, forever fearing rejection, even in his final moments.

And then he was gone. The foreign wind picking up parts of his remains and spiraling them off unto parts unknown. He was gone.

—

The silence was deafening in its implications, only broken shortly by a choked sob. It took a moment for Tony to recognize it as his own.

He was clutching both hands before his mouth, an aborted gesture to cover the show of emotion by the blood and ashes that still coated them. All that remained of the _bright young boy_ who had followed _him_ into space,

The _child_ who _he_ encouraged,

The _innocent kid_ that _Tony_ failed to save—

“Stark. You need to calm down,” Stephen said carefully from beside him.

Coming from anyone else, anytime else, he would have snarked back, shot down such a condescending request. Yet, as Strange helped him to regulate his breathing from what he belatedly realized was the start of an attack, he found himself grateful for the sorcerer.

Grateful for the hand on his back rubbing soothing circles, reminding him he wasn’t alone.

“-if you two are done.”

Tony startled at the impatient tone from the alien woman- Nebula, he’d heard Quill call her- and straightened himself, inexplicably glad when Strange stayed near. There was something oddly familiar about the former neurosurgeon that put his tense nerves to rest and while the robot-lady represented another example of company, he would readily admit he didn’t find her nearly as comforting a presence as the one at his back.

It was an aspect he’d have to revisit when he didn’t have that same alien barking in his ear to get a move on—

“If we don’t discover where my sister’s idiot friends set down their ship by nightfall you two will die here with the rest of them.” She continued, seemingly oblivious to her own voice breaking mid-sentence.

In response, Tony gestured towards the horizon where he was now able to recognize the bleeding colours in the sky as a sunset, though he took a moment to find his voice.

“There- that way. We ran into the Guardians over there.” His own voice was broken from the beginning, but it seemed Nebula was willing to overlook his weakness as easily as her own, turning on a heel and marching off without a second glance.

He took one last lingering look around at the swirling ashes, indistinct now as the wind picked up, before taking a breath and setting off, Strange hot on his heels.

—

The foreign sun was just dropping below the horizon when they spotted the ship.

Tony had started shivering some time ago - bad blood circulation the cheery culprit - but even as he thought he noticed the temperature dip another degree below freezing the genius felt something warm and heavy drape itself across his back. Too tired to startle at the sudden contact he let it settle, once it had, letting his head turn slightly he confirmed, it was Strange’s cloak, the man himself looking vaguely vulnerable without it.

Having said that, any thoughts of handing the thing back were shut down when it tightened itself imperceptibly around his shoulders, making him add psychic to the garments already long list of abilities.

They had reached the ship while all this was happening and he watched detachedly as the alien confirmed herself as at least part robot, opening up her arm to connect it to a port in the ship’s outer hull. It took her a few tries and several curses in languages he was sure even FRIDAY would have trouble with, but with a hissing release of air the loading ramp of the craft finally lowered to grant them entry.

The regulated airflow of the ship’s interior made the cloak obsolete; nevertheless, it stayed snug around his shoulders. A quick glance at the Sorcerer himself confirmed it wasn’t his doing if the discontented glances were any indication- and Tony found himself half smirking at that before the gravity of his situation reminded him that now was not the time for petty pissing contests.

He dropped himself unceremoniously into the seat beside Nebula and turned it- awkwardly avoiding the various screens- to face her. “We need to return to Earth, regroup-“ he stopped himself from callously adding _“Count the dead.”_ Strange’s hand landing on his shoulder halting _that_ train of thought just in time.

“I believe this belongs to me,” he spoke, voice stern yet soft in the silence. He snagged the cloak with one scarred hand and it followed willingly, wrapping itself back around its master like it belonged there- which it did. That Tony felt its absence sharply suggested nothing, he was only cold.

He absently let his hands to input the coordinates of Earth when Nebula indicated, barely taking the time to hit ‘enter’ before he was up, restless energy pushing him to pace the length of the ship. The liftoff of the spacecraft only sparked a minor stumble, but instantly the Doctor was there, a delicate hand under his elbow keeping him steady.

He’d been doing that since whatever he’d seen in his futures; standing just a step too close, stealing glances when he thought the genius was otherwise occupied. It bothered Tony more that the feeling was reciprocated- catching himself leaning a tad too much into the casual touch- but he couldn’t be sure; he couldn’t confirm that it was him and not his future the wizard was fascinated with.  
After all, according to them, his continued existence was _essential_ to winning this thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	2. Chapter Two

_“I don’t wanna go…”_  

_—The kid’s pleading eyes bored into him, begging him, trusting him._

_“Mr Stark?”_

_—He was so young, so innocent, he didn’t deserve this._

_“I don't know what’s happening…”_

— _Too young_ , he couldn’t know, _Tony knew_ , he should have protected him, _he promised May_ he would protect her nephew and now here he was, _hurting_ , and Tony was helpless, not enough, _never enough_.

Sweat lined the sheets as he sat up, too fast, his vision blacking out for a moment before resuming to focus on Strange’s worried face above him. Still stuck in the memories he scrambled backwards until his back hit a wall and he was _trapped_ , there wasn’t enough space, he was back in _Afghanistan_ the narrow ceilings of the cave closing in on him.

The Sorcerer Supreme didn’t try to calm him with words in this instance, instead opting to open up a window in the outer hull, revealing the vast realms of space to Tony where he lay shivering in his borrowed cot. With one final, albeit strained nod at the genius, he was gone, giving Tony the air he needed to reign in his gasping breaths.

He ran a clammy hand across his face, feeling awake enough now to be embarrassed about the blatant show of weakness. Here he was millions of miles from home and he couldn’t hold it together a single second it seemed.

Standing shakily, he spared a moment to splash a burst of water on his already-bruising face in the adjoining restroom. Staring at himself in the mirror he wondered, not for the first time, how he’d got himself in this mess he called his life. Heaving a heavy sigh, he left the sanctity of his stolen quarters, slipping into the upper decks with near silent steps.

Nebula, with her inhuman hearing, still snapped to attention the second he put a foot above the main deck, deigning him a single glance before her gaze returned to the rapidly retreating star systems outside the view-screens. It was a sight straight out of star trek, and one he only wished he could share with his young charge.

Feeling suddenly very sick, he found himself sitting at the table without so much as a morsel to eat, Nebula took up the chair across from him and it was only at that moment he noticed she had moved at all. She too had forgone food, although, if his suspicions held any accuracy she didn’t need to eat anyways.

“So… What are you? Robot? Alien? Something in between?” He found himself speaking his mind without thinking too much of it, as he often did. As a result, Nebula’s face shut down in an instant, closing off with a clinical precision he could only hope to replicate one day.

Nonetheless, she still spoke; “Something in between sounds about right.” Her dark gaze dared him to continue, he ignored it. “A cyborg then, or an android, awesome.” He grinned, a bit strained, but she returned it with a surprised upturn of the lips, which he took as a win.

“How long until we break the upper atmosphere?” Said Stephen. He had been tinkering away in the kitchenette quietly, now he came over and set a plateful of sandwiches before them. Despite his earlier misgivings, Tony snatched one up eagerly, with food in front of him, all restraints were gone. The genius took stock and knew that it has been at least fifty six hours since he’d last eaten and in that moment all of that hunger crashed down on him; a wave that left his stomach announcing loudly to the room what he’d just come to realize.

He dug in with a gusto, barely pausing for breath, it was only when the plate was empty and Nebula was staring at him in barely restrained horror that he realized he’d eaten all but the single sandwich Strange claimed for himself.

Refusing to be embarrassed over something as trivial as eating his fill he picked himself up, plodding over to the control panel to announce, “Eight days, five hours, and twenty minutes, give or take,” to the room as a whole.

A reasonable time frame for such a small ship, yet some small part of him itched to improve upon it. Only he didn’t have the luxury of making mistakes here, they were in the vortex of space and if they didn’t make it back the game was over, the sacrifice play was for nothing. So instead he sat back and stared up at the stars rushing past, feeling more powerless than the seventeen-year-old kid he had been when he was left an orphan with an empire to run. 

—

Hours had passed while he sat surveying their path through the stars, they were currently just under eight days from Earth. Tony, in his restlessness, had decided to try his hand at the ships age-old communicator but was having little luck. For such a high tech ship he marvelled that they got by on a piece of tech from the dark ages. Nebula claimed they had something more advanced but that it was locked in the ‘Raccoon’s Room’ and that it was asking for injury to attempt entry.

Tony, truth be told, was just fine where he was, old as the equipment may be, it was at the least familiar in a way very little else was aboard this ship.

“Stark.”

“Strange.”

Speaking of familiar, “How can I help you, Doc?” He asked, brushing his grease-stained hands on the sweats that were by now living up to their name.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” He said, his voice infuriatingly calm as he made reference to the genius’ night terrors.

“Just fine.” Tony bristled. “What about you, Strange? Lost your precious rock, must feel bad.”

“It was all a part of the plan, but you knew that… I didn’t mean to upset you.” He paused, searching, “What are you working on?”

“Trying to get communications back on this thing, pretty hopeless even with me running the show,” he answered, taking the out he was given.

“Whoever installed this piece of junk might’ve been stuck in the 80’s but their taste in music wasn’t the worst,” Tony said, handing Strange a couple of cassettes.

“Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Abba, Ramones…” he nodded as Strange read out the chicken scratch labelling.

“Mm.. Nothing too noteworthy here,” Tony turned, not expecting the Doctor to speak up again, “You’re walking a thin line, Doc.” He spoke, his eyes narrow as they met Strange’s.

“I have nothing against the classics, I’m simply more a fan of the obscure.” He placated, a glaringly different attitude from the snarky, vindictive man he’d come to expect.

“Okay, now I know something’s up. The Strange I knew would’ve never rolled over and shown his belly so easily, what’s going on with you?” He asked, tone bordering on anger, he was tired of being treated with kiddy gloves.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Stark, the so-called ‘Strange you knew’ you met only yesterday, and you know what they say about making assumptions.” He spat back, that fire that had so drawn the mechanic in returning, “Ha,” he barked “make an ass out of you and me, yeah I know… Now that we’ve got that out of the way, mind giving me a hand?” He asked, already reaching a hand up in expectation.

“Certainly.” Was said with a smirk, and Tony tried not to be surprised by the fabric wrapping its way around his wrist to bring him to his feet with an almighty tug. Something must have shown in his face, however, as Strange, in a self-deprecating gesture, lifted his deeply scarred hands for inspection.

“Not much strength left in these, I’m afraid.”

Tony nodded, a similar silent show of support to what the Doctor had granted him only hours ago; for there were some things in this world that needed no words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to my Betas Erja and Moki, both of whom love my work more than I do, as well as the IronStrange HQ for giving me the inspiration to write again. You are all fabulous!
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	3. Chapter Three

Time passed in space as it did everywhere else, slowly and then all at once.

Tony found himself falling into a friendship with Strange at a speed not dissimilar to the passage of time. For the first forty-eight hours their communications were wrought with missteps and cautious words, however, as time went by he found himself settling into an easy camaraderie with the guy.

He discovered quickly that not unlike himself, Stephen wore his sarcasm as a shield against the world, using it to deflect personal inquiries and detain emotion at every opportunity.

Except, it seemed, when it came to Stark himself.

For some unknown reason Strange had let down his walls when it came to the genius, Tony himself estimated it happened as early as on Titan— though the why and how were still beyond his reach. To make matters worse, he found himself reciprocating the sincerity, in rare showings of weakness that always left him feeling stripped bare in the best way possible.

However it couldn’t all be sunshine and rainbows for the pair of sociopathic socialites; in moments of high tension, which happened often the place and time they were in, those barriers shot back up, along with them acidic words and sharp tones to match. This led to several harsh disagreements between the two of them that left each fuming and with nowhere to go, only for a short time to pass before they were right back at it.

Nebula throughout all of this remained neutral, seemingly both exasperated and amused by the actions of her human companions. She rarely spoke to them beyond the necessary, but was frequently the sounding board to a frustrated Stark, more often than not stuck on something Strange had done or said.

“He’s just so - so… ugh,” Tony grumbled, having stormed off once again after the sorcerer stringently refused to reveal the fate of the future.

“How eloquent of you Stark.” She snipped back in a rare contribution to their regularly rather one-sided conversations. “Have you not considered that he may not be hiding things voluntarily, that if the future he saw was one with you ignorant of it, him letting you in on the surprise might just have some disastrous consequences?” Her face did something he’d some time ago decided was her equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

Tony stopped because he hadn’t considered this, his version of a future where he fought and won against the mad Titan was one where he could have only known in advance how he did so. It struck a chord in him to be kept in the dark and he had lashed out at Strange before giving the Doctor a chance to explain to him his reasoning.

“Well if knowing the fate of my friends is such an Earth-shattering event shouldn’t we be steering clear of… ya know, Earth?” He asked, frustrated at his circumstances.

“Mm.. It may be, but had you let me explain myself earlier you would have known I never did get the exact details of every iteration,” Strange himself spoke, walking into the room with his cloak trailing a distance behind him.

If Tony hadn’t known better he’d say it looked guilty for grabbing its master to intervene, but after only mere days of being in its presence he knew the damned enchanted outerwear was far from repentant, in fact, he’d rather bet on the opposite.

Strange continued, oblivious to Tony’s inner musings, “I only viewed what I would describe as a highlight reel of each reality, even the intensity of that nearly proved too much for my mind to take…” He trailed off,  a hand resting itself on the back of the chair nearest Tony’s own.

He tried to ignore the way he recognized Stephen’s scarred hands gripping the cool alloy as an early sign of an episode. Strange wasn’t dissimilar to himself in that he rarely took well to his weaknesses being poked and prodded, he learned earlier on in an accident with a hot welder that it was better to leave the man to his own devices in the moment. If he wanted or needed help he’d search it out in his own time.

How Tony knew so much about the sorcerer supreme in such little time was only testament to the bizarre bond that had formed between the pair. The same attachment that now had him sharing a loaded look with the sorcerer as he sat.

“Well count me glad your mind didn’t give out, Stephanie, you’re the only thing keeping me sane on this tin-can death trap.” His teasing grin was meant to lessen the intensity of the moment and after a couple stressful seconds Strange groaned good-naturedly and Tony felt like he could finally take in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When I gave you permission to use my name this wasn’t quite what I had thought it would be, Anthony.” He responded, stern but with an undertone of amusement that kept the genius going. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Stevie-“ His words choked off.

Now it was Tony’s turn to grasp onto the edges of his seat, his memories turning back to a time when he made this exact joke with a man who didn’t take it in as much good fun as the sorcerer sitting in front of him.

_Without warning he was back in the tower, snarking at Steve over a cup of coffee when suddenly the mug was shattering against the floor— the super-soldier himself having slammed him into the counter none-too-gently. The Captain was looking at him in a way that would wither a man of lesser resolve._

_Except Tony was nothing if he wasn’t a smart-ass, “How very forward of you, Rogers.” He smirked, flirtatious tones undermined by the nearly indecipherable note of fear._

_Steve was not amused, “Don’t ever call me that name again-“ he growled. “What, Stevi-“ Tony continued, remorseless- that is, until a strong arm came up across his windpipe, not quite cutting off his airflow but giving the impression of it all the same._

_“Don’t.” With that last word, Steve turned on his heel and took off, Tony for once letting him go as he sunk to the marble-tiled floor, gasping for air. He recognized weakly he was going into an attack, but even with his AI speaking soft reassurances in his ear the shock of being manhandled in his own home- something he had vowed to never allow again- was too much to overcome._

_He felt himself losing touch with reality, sounds of the tower drowned out by the rushing in his ears-_

_— “_ Tony,” the concerned, commanding call cut through his consciousness like a knife.

The billionaire was brought back to the ship to see Strange standing over him, a shaking hand on either side of his face, each of which was swiftly removed. Tony didn’t let him go, grasping a wrist lightly, eyes pleading, he couldn’t be alone, not now, _not after all the times Steve had left him alone_.

Stephen crouched down beside his seat, his tall frame holding him nearly at Tony’s height all the same- _the bastard_ \- his bright eyes bored into the genius’ flat ones, an effort to ascertain his wellbeing no doubt. Unfortunately, his mind was more preoccupied with the anomaly Stephen Strange presented than providing the man himself false platitudes.  

No one, not Pepper, nor Rhodes for all the man had tried, was able to drag him out of a panic attack so flawlessly, painlessly. It was without precedence the power Stephen had over him, he’d ask later if magic played a part, for now he found- startlingly- that he trusted the sorcerer to have his best interests at heart.

Suddenly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, he let his forehead rest on one of Stephen’s softly padded shoulders, absently noting that the robes were good for something non-aesthetic after all. Without prompting Stephen’s arms encircled the genius, eliminating the last distance between them.

Figuring all pretences were already out the window, Tony let his head turn slowly to breathe in the sorcerer’s scent; musty like old books and with a hint of something he associated with a visit to the Doctors, all wrapped up among a myriad of scents that were purely Stephen.

He realized absently that he would be willing to stay like that forever, even the pain that was shortly making itself known as a knot in his back had nothing on the shaking hand he felt carding through his hair. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe, untouchable.

Of course, that was when their resident cyborg had to stroll in and ruin it. Letting out a snort as they scrambled back to their original positions and muttering something that sounded strangely like “ _I knew it_ ” under her breath.

Ignoring them and their… moment, whatever it had been, she snatched up a beer before making her way back to where she’d come from, a tip of the bottle in their direction her only acknowledgement.

“Well… I’ll take that as my cue to get some sleep,” said Stephen after a stretch of silence, his pause and look in Tony’s direction an obvious suggestion to the billionaire.

He wanted to protest, sure in what sleep would lead to him to, but with a groan-turned-yawn as he stood, stretching his back languidly, he gave in to the unspoken demand. Studiously ignoring Strange’s smug not-quite-grin as he followed the already familiar path down to the lower decks, ready, if not willing, for some much-needed shut-eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nebula is perpetually done with these boys and their pining. <3
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	4. Chapter Four

Tony woke to darkness and the sound of strangled yelling, for once not his own, but if not his own yelling there was only one other person it could be- for, from what he’d seen, the android Nebula never slept, or at the least not in any view of the humans. He slipped swiftly out of the bunk, barely pausing to pull on his sweats before stepping out into the cooler hall.

He located Strange’s doorway by the cloak gesturing at him to get a move on that stood within it. A few short strides and he was standing in the entrance to the room, hesitating now as he thought his actions might be seen as an intrusion of privacy. He could just barely make out Stephen, curled tightly in a net of sheets. The cloak of levitation clearly felt he was taking too long as with a forceful shove, he found himself stumbling into the dimly lit room.

Tony came to rest next to Strange’s small cot just as another strangled yell came ripping its way out of the man’s chest. He was close enough now to make out the name, screamed in such tender _terror_ that it made Tony’s gut clench. The name Stephen was yelling was his own.

With little more preamble, he reached out and took hold of one of the Sorcerers arms carefully, giving him a gentle shake. When nothing came of that but another muttering of “Tony- no, no don’t, you can’t-“ he sat himself on the side of his companions bunk, deciding on more drastic measures.

A breath and he had his hands on the sides of the Doctors shallow face, a mirror of the position they had been in only hours earlier. “Stephen,” he called, his first application of the sorcerer’s actual name, “you’re alright, I- I’m alright…” he trailed off at a loss for what more to do for the virtual stranger in his arms.

Suddenly though, the eyes he now realized were mere inches from his own snapped open, the man himself sitting up so suddenly he narrowly avoided a head-butting by scrambling back.

He didn’t get too far, however, as he found his waist without warning encased in the trembling arms of one Stephen Strange. After a second the automatic tension of being touched relaxed into the hold of someone he knew wouldn’t hurt him. Such trust in another human being unprecedented for Tony Stark who practically screamed ‘trust issues,’ but as he felt himself returning the embrace, he realized how much this must mean for the neurosurgeon himself who was nothing if not professional, proud.

They sat there silently for some time, soaking in the presence of one another like the attention-starved social-outcasts they were. Tony taking it in that he could trust this man, all while vowing to be worthy of the confidence he was in turn shown.

As such, Stephen was the first to speak. Snaking his arms away from the billionaire’s embrace and lifting his head from where it had rested itself on the exact spot the arc reactor had resided in order to look him in the eyes.

“I- ah,” he cleared his voice, “I apologize for this, I can assure you it won’t be happening again. The cloak shouldn’t have retrieved you, it was… inappropriate.” His gaze had dropped to his hands and he was wringing them together nervously by the time he finished speaking. If Tony wasn’t mistaken he could even make out a faint dusting of pink across the razor-sharp cheekbones across from him.

He reached out, making an aborted gesture to touch, recognizing it may not be entirely welcome. “The cloak didn’t- I heard you screaming,” he waved off what was only going to be another apology, “I’m here because I want to be Stephen.” The man in question was silent at that and Tony had to give it to himself that he finally had the sorcerer at a lack for words, but he also needed to ask.

“You- You were screaming for me… I mean, it was my name, you were yelling…” He trailed off, his tone questioning but not interrogating, Stephen didn’t have to tell him what he didn’t want to, or even wasn’t able to.

“I- You deserve to know everything, Tony, believe me, you do… but there are things I cannot tell you, things you can’t yet know.” His voice was soft, still tender, and so apologetic. Tony nodded, already turning away when Stephen’s shaking fingers once again alighted on his cheek, soft even as Tony tensed underneath them.

“In the future, in our future- the one we win- the two of us, we… well, we’re together.” He finished, his eyes never straying from Tony’s face.

Tony meanwhile, had only tensed further.

This thing inside him that had been growing for Stephen, so strong in the mere handful of hours they’d spent together was constructed under the illusion Strange had enjoyed spending time with him, had possibly even felt something for him if that slap on the ass so long ago was any indication. Yet, here he was telling Tony it was all destiny’s doing, that he was only following God's given plan for how their lives should play out.

“You mean,” he paused, putting his thoughts together, but the words were coming too fast, he wasn’t thinking, not really. “So you mean to tell me that this has been a lie, all of this, even after what you said to me, how you told me you would never lie to my face- how you promised me.” He felt his anger growing at the injustice, even as his voice broke, and he swiped Stephen’s hand from where it had rested against his face.

“You know, it’s almost funny. After everything I actually thought I could trust you— No, nuh-uh- don’t you dare.” He said harshly, stopping the sorcerer from interrupting, his eyes were watering and he swept at them briefly.

“I actually believed it,” he repeated, letting out a watery laugh. “Well then, Doc, this future in which we’re together, it’s over. We’ll find a way to win with or without your help and there will be no destiny dragging us together, don’t you worry your pretty little face over it hm?” He finished, his tone bordered on manic by the end of it all, but he couldn’t care. He had cared, and look at where that had gotten him.

Standing up, he stalked out of the room, making it only as far as his own bunk before he collapsed. Harsh breaths turned into a choked off noise of despair as he buried his face in the plush pillows, considering for just a moment suffocating himself so he wouldn’t have to face whatever it was he had just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They both just have so many issues ~
> 
> As always a huge thanks to Erja and Moki you people are magnificent, I don't know how you put up with me. <3
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interlude we begin with here is set right between the third and fourth chapters for anyone who may be confused. Enjoy <3

_Stephen had stopped him on his way to get some sleep, just a hand on his elbow as he was about to turn into his bunk. He turned to face the Sorcerer, meeting a stare so intense it caused a shiver to run its way down his spine in response. The fingers held fast at his elbow, there to strengthen him somehow, though from what he couldn’t name._

_“Tony,” it was the first time the other man had used his preferred name since everything fell apart on Titan, whatever Stephen had stopped him to say was serious then. “I want you to know, I may omit certain truths, but I will never lie to you.” He said, the sincerity pouring out of every word._

_Tony was still irked, truth, trust, hard things for him to come by and even harder for him to believe in._

_“A lie by omission is a lie Strange, at least that’s what they say.” He responds instead, blunt in his exhaustion._

_He just wanted this, whatever this was, to be over. Everyone lied, to say otherwise is just to prove it to be true, Stephen was no different from the rest. And yet here he stood, still facing the man, the fingers at his elbow not preventing his getaway but rooting him in place all the same._

_“What is it you want me to say, Stark? That I’ll let the universe crash and burn for you? Because news flash, I won’t, I made myself clear on that already.” He responded, the sincerity in his tone turning to ice._

_If it weren’t for the underlying sense of vulnerability there the statement would have hit home as intended, instead it prompted a slightly different approach from the genius._

_“What I want is to trust you, Strange, I want to know that what you’re keeping from me is for my sake, not yours. I’ve been played before, used by supposed friends, even family.” He stopped for a second, catching his breath, he hadn’t meant to let so much slip but it was like a floodgate had opened, out it all came roaring in its intensity._

_“If we’re to go at this, whatever this is, together I can’t have you stabbing me in the back and telling me it was the right thing to do. That it was the only way.” He was breathing hard now, memories of Siberia, of cold and of betrayal breaking through his barriers—_

_“He’s my friend.”_

_“So was I.”_

_He shook them off - Stephen’s hands along with the visions he’d rather not relive - ready to turn in for another sleepless night._

_“Stark, I may not be able to promise you the world, but I can promise I will never be another Steve Rogers.” He said with that sincerity back in his timber voice. “What that pathetic excuse for a man pulled on you…” he grumbled, and Tony shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew, it was all over the news all those months ago after all._

_“Needless to say, I am nothing like him and hold no plans to be.” He grasped one of Tony’s hands, squeezing softly, shakily. Before a corner of his mouth lifted in a strained approximation of a smirk._

_“After all, Rogers wasn’t even a friend to you, not really, I, meanwhile, plan to be so much more,” he finished, a glint in his eye._

_Before Tony was even able to register what he had said the sorcerer was gone, leaving him gaping in the hall like an overgrown fish out of water._

_‘Where is FRIDAY when I need her…’_ Was his last thought before the illusion shattered, lost to a world of dreams, for once pleasant in nature though his mind would not retain any knowledge of them when he woke.

—

The next morning found the two standing tensely behind Nebula as she punched commands angrily into the console, the harsh clicking interrupted only by an even harsher curse now and then. Tony was helpless but to watch as she navigated the ship straight through a wormhole with an alarming tug in his gut that was only alighted as Stephen’s hand came up to enclose around his own. He focused on his breathing and managed to get through it without too much anxiety eating him up, although a delayed breakdown was always in the cards.

Then he realized exactly what it was he had allowed in his absent-mindedness—

Without a second thought, he ripped his hand away, regretting it only a little as the sorcerer winced shortly, a shake of his hand and the infuriating nonchalance was back. They hadn’t spoken all morning, though Tony would be blind to not see the dark circles that shadowed the Doctor’s eyes, it seemed like all those walls from when they first met were firmly back in place. No matter how obnoxious Tony was they would not open themselves, and that was just fine with him, _it was._

The jump through the wormhole had helped them avoid an incoming asteroid storm, but it had also put them horribly off course; now instead of just over a hundred hours to earth they were again nearly a week away.

While previously he had wanted nothing more than extra time away- Earth bringing with it a reality where he had to face everything that had happened. Now that he and Stephen weren’t speaking, the silence of space was slowly eating him alive. This, after only hours into their… into Tony’s freak-out.

He wasn’t an idiot, or maybe he was; now that he’d cooled off he was able to admit to himself, if not the man in question that he _had_ overreacted. It had slapped him in the face what Stephen said to him, his eyes so tender, sincere as he held Tony’s face in the dim light of the cabin, and Tony just hadn’t been ready for it.

He wasn’t ready to admit to himself he could have a future, he was so sure he was destined to die, and the not quite side-glances of Stephen’s had only seemed to confirm it. Now he knew the true reason for those glances, _if not why_ , how anyone could think him worthy of their love, why anyone would.

Tony was a genius, he was cold, sarcastic, condescending, a billionaire who threw money at his problems. He was a playboy- though not so much anymore- he’d slept with countless men and women and would never remember their faces let alone their names, not with how much alcohol he had indulged in back then.

His only redeeming quality might have been his philanthropism, though even that just went back to how he threw money at problems he didn’t know how to deal with.

Yet, Stephen was all of those things too, if wrapped up in a much nicer, humbled package. He was a genius, on, if not above Tony’s level. While they may not play on the same playgrounds it was invigorating to have someone keep up with him, to not be reminded constantly of how different he was from the everyday homo sapien.

Stephen knew what it was like to be a billionaire, he was one once upon a time, he wasn’t here for the money, like so many often were, and he didn’t treat it like an insurmountable obstacle between them either, _it just was_. Strange may have never been called a playboy in the media, but he was far from innocent of it either.

Except, in the end, Stephen was still better, he would always be, he had been humbled by his accident and while Tony’s attempts to help people always seemed to burst into flames. He’d had the joy of spending the last few days listening to Stephen talk about all the lives he had saved, stars in his eyes as he stared at the sorcerer. This was a man worthy of the title philanthropist, a man deserving of the designation ‘hero’. 

Tony wanted this, he wouldn’t kid himself, the few days he’d spent in the presence of the Doctor had him forgetting his every worry, it was freeing.

It was also frightening.

He hadn’t taken pause, before Stephen himself had pointed it out, to register what it was that was happening between them. He hadn’t recognized the growing fondness as anything but friendship, not until it was too late. Now he had gone and blown it up on himself, just like he ruined every great thing in his life. Crushing what opportunity he’d had with ruthless abandon.

Or so he thought—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself for these cliffhangers too - I promise this is the last of them lovelies.
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
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> 
>  


	6. Chapter Six

Tony hadn’t stayed after they’d travelled through the wormhole, too caught up in his own head, guilt and anger mixing, swirling in his gut. He had to get away, smacking Stephen’s hand had at least told him that much.

So he went where he always did in times like this, his lab, or a makeshift approximation of it at least. Put together from scraps he’d found and tech he had repurposed in a small storage room off in the rear of the ship, he was forced to use an empty metal shipping container as his workbench but it was quiet and it was _his_.

Except it wasn’t just his, it had been his and Stephen’s and he knew in his heart it would feel empty without the presence of the sorcerer at his back.

Whether he had been meditating or manipulating reality with his magical powers, he had provided a sort of companionship that kept Tony from kicking him to the curb like he had with so many others.

He would always cite his lab as a personal space, be it for his own sanity or actual professional reasons insisted on by Pepper. Tony used the walls of his lab as actively to keep out intruders as those in his own mind.

Yet for some strange reason, the Doctor had been allowed in from the start.

Though, with how the sorcerer trailed after him like a cute but confused kitten, he had hardly been given a choice in the matter. Strange just always seemed to be there, the shocking part was that Tony didn’t mind. The lab was as much his domain as it was the sorcerer’s.

Which was why, walking into said lab and seeing Stephen sitting calmly on his usual stool, bent over the same text he’d been working on for the past few days, shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

“Stephen?! Uh- Doctor Strange,” he corrected the slip up, wincing slightly as he did so.

“Anthony.” The fact that he was still Anthony to the neurosurgeon should not have meant as much as it did to him in that moment.

“What- ah, what are you doing here?” He asked, cursing himself for his stuttering; he was Tony goddamn Stark and he was going to act like it if it killed him.

Strange raised an eyebrow and lifted his book aloft as if to show him, Tony blanked. He had assumed, like so many others, that after he had snapped, after he had shown the sorcerer his true colours he would run for the hills, instead here he was, acting like everything was as it should be.

“Um… About last night.” He started, not sure where he was going, but knowing the owed the other man an explanation-

“No explanation needed.” Strange interrupted his train of thought, or more like derailed.

“What…?” He hated how weak his voice was, how lost he felt.

“Tony,” the Doctor said, standing up gracefully. He crossed the short space to where the smaller man was standing and with a single finger lifted his chin so that their eyes met.

“ _I_ am the one who owes you an explanation. I promised you truth while I was actively concealing such,” he paused, looking away as he continued, “I promised to be nothing like Captain all while leading you straight into an emotional trap you didn’t deserve in the slightest.” His words were self-loathing, filled with sincerity, and so, so wrong.

“You didn’t,” he interrupted, startling Stephen enough for him look back at the genius before him. “I mean, you didn’t lie, not directly, just like you said, and you were nothing like _him_ ,” he stopped to gather himself and held up a hand as Stephen looked ready to speak. 

“It’s on me, all of it. I overreacted because I wasn’t ready to face the truth-“ He cut himself off quickly, the reveal not being what he’d meant to say, not so soon.

“The truth…” Stephen said slowly.

“Yeah, the truth…” He was going to go for it, he didn’t have the first clue how the Doctor would react, but he was all in, there was no turning back now. “The truth is that I’m a mess- no let me talk, I’m a mess; I’m obnoxious and arrogant, I speak without thinking about what I’m saying. I make reporters cry and I send interns away scarred for life. Most of all, I break… everything I touch.” Stephen looked ready to disagree, but was thankfully letting him say his piece, if he was stopped now he might never finish.

“But for some reason, you’re interested in me anyways, aren’t you?” Strange didn’t look startled, he looked sure, and that bolstered Tony’s resolve. “I didn’t see it at first because I’m blind, or maybe I just didn’t want to see it, but you like me, like-me like-me I mean.” He ignored Stephen’s shallow “What are we? Middle-Schoolers?” Filled with unidentifiable emotion; he couldn’t be deterred, not now, not when he was so close.

“And well, I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that the feeling’s a little mutual.” His eyes ducked on what would be his final line, the determining factor on if this, whatever was happening between them went any further. This time Stephen spoke up.

“A little?” His voice was filled with a fond amusement that forced Tony’s eyes off the floor.

They met Stephen’s instead, his eyes an unidentifiable colour, somewhere between a generic green and blue, a colour that left one wondering. Tony decided then and there that they were wonderful.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until those eyes suddenly got a lot closer.

Stephen’s arms rested lightly on his shoulders now, one trembling hand smoothing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His eyes darted to Tony’s lips and he found himself wetting them in anticipation.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” said Stephen, voice low.

Tony felt that voice stirring in his gut, but still he couldn’t resist saying, “Practicing that honesty there, Doc?” A quirk to his lips.

Stephen just growled, deep and enticing, “Shut up and kiss me, Stark,” and Tony did just that, tilting his head up a notch just as Stephen leaned down, meeting somewhere in the middle.

It was everything he thought it would be, from the moment that damned cloak slapped his ass on Earth and he had mistakenly assumed it was Strange. He had given the man a once over then and there, had liked what he’d seen, but he’d hardly thought that he would ever admit it.

Kissing Stephen wasn’t like fireworks, or an explosion of colour behind his eyes as the movies make a first kiss out to be, he’d learned that life lesson long ago. Instead it was akin to coming home, it felt right, it felt wonderful, and above all it felt safe.

Too quickly it was over, with no tongue and just a teasing nip at his lower lip, Stephen backed away, smoothing his damned robes like they weren’t always wrinkly. Tony’s hands still rested on his hips and once the sorcerer was done fussing, he felt his grip enclose lightly around Tony’s forearms. He, however, didn’t even look down, his gaze focused solely on the slight figure before him.

“Is this… You want this right? And not just because some Stone of Destiny said so?” He asked at length, hating the vulnerability but needing to know.

“Mm… Yes, I want this. I want you, Tony…” he stopped in order to encase Tony’s face within the grasp of his scarred, shuddering hands. “And we both know that destiny has nothing to do with it.” Tony thought he might kiss him then, but before he could Strange’s forehead fell to meet his own. They stood like that for some time, legs growing tired and arms going numb where they held onto each other. 

Their dumb smiles faded after a while, but still they stood, enraptured in an unbreakable embrace. For just while they just stood there, together at last, there were no mad Titans on the loose, no stones of immense power to steal away, and the snap had never happened. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say about this chapter >.< I hope you all like it?
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
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> 
>  


	7. Chapter Seven

_All was not well._  

It had started with the ship’s thrice-damned communicator, the one Tony would have sworn up and down was for all rights and purposes a piece of junk. The thing had, out of nowhere, lit up like a Christmas tree and started to pump out morse code for SOS like _it_ was the thing in need of saving. Then a string of coordinates followed that had Stephen sending the Cloak for Nebula and Tony cursing in every language he knew how as he scrambled for a pen and some paper.

They weren’t heroes for nothing and despite the protests of their less-human-inclined crew mate, they were hardly going to leave someone stranded in space when it was within their power to help. It turned out to be a good thing they did, or a bad thing, that depended on who you asked.

They had picked up from the crumbled ruins of what once had to have been a frankly magnificent spacecraft a collection of Asgardian refugees. The poor people were herded aboard their now quite crowded spacecraft by one woman in particular who introduced herself curtly as Valkyrie. It with her their problems began; specifically, the grudge she and Nebula held for each other, though neither woman would admit for anything from where their animosity for each other had stemmed.

It was, however, increasingly difficult to organize room assignments with the two refusing to reside in the same space as one another. In the end, only some spirited help from young twins Narvi and Vali of Asgard - who acted as messengers for the impromptu meeting - resulted in resolution without bloodshed. Though unfortunately not without more time and effort put into the matter than Tony would have liked to admit.

Which led him to where he was now, staring at Stephen’s shapely ass as he stripped for bed. They were assigned to sharing one of the small bunks in a bid to open up space for the Asgardians, the room itself was barely bigger than a broom closet. A fact that Tony earlier in the day would have admitted to enjoying, given it meant sharing the single-wide cot, but now in the moment was met with a tad bit of regret and a lot of trepidation.

Strange was standing in boxer briefs with an eyebrow raised in Tony’s direction when he finally found it in himself to look up, and, with _that_ question answered he found it in himself to at least appear moderately sheepish for staring. Except, this was where the nerves started; now as Stephen clambered into the cot to sleep, it was his turn to strip and while the sorcerer was certainly no stranger to scars, there were none quite like his.

Tony Stark had never been ashamed of his body, in fact, he was quite proud of it - as the media knew well - right up until he was hit shrapnel from his own missile, that is. Now, he was much more cautious. Who he let look at him when he was at, what he felt, his most vulnerable was narrowed down to a short and selective list. He was worried that the fragile thing between him and Strange would fracture, with such a step taken too early.

So it was that he climbed into bed beside the sorcerer still in his undershirt and boxers, a not unflattering look, but certainly an odd one. Especially given that it had only been the night before he’d come rushing in to wake Strange in a set of sweats and little else. He justified it to himself that it was the situation that changed his comfort levels and hoped Strange wouldn’t read too much into it.

He was still worrying when the wizard in question wrapped a tentative arm around his waist, pulling him flush against an expanse of cool skin that immediately had his body reacting accordingly. It was not the time, nor the place, however, and as he felt a nose nuzzle into his hair, he found himself not caring in the slightest, because in Stephen’s arms he felt safe; and for the first time in a long time, he slept soundlessly.

—

They woke together in what could have been morning - _certainly felt like it_ -to the muffled sound of yelling from the main deck. Stephen was on his feet in an instant, but Tony, less awake and not at all inclined to be so, simply turned over with some muted grumbling.

“You’re not even the least bit concerned, are you?” Mused Stephen, staring down at the sleeping genius. He had his robes halfway done up by this time but paused to brush an errant strand of hair away from Tony’s face with a soft smile.

“Catfights have nothing on world-ending catastrophes, come get me if one of them manages to kill the other though, I have money on that Valkyrie chick.” He replied, eliciting a short chuckle from the sorcerer before he was gone.

The source of the shouting silenced itself shortly after that, though not without a measure of stomping feet that led him to believe one, if not both, of the aggressors had stormed off angrily. He had to laugh as Stephen returned with a deep sigh and a bewildered expression on his face.

“I was going to ask you what it was this time, but by the look on your face you don’t have a clue, do you, Stephanie?” He smirked.

“Your guess is as good as my own, but seeing as when I walked in they were at each other's throats in the most literal of ways, we might want to keep an eye on those two.” Was Stephen’s wry response as he sat on the edge of the bed. Tony sat up to meet him, letting their legs brush, but not much else, hands in his lap.

“We have a lot of things to keep an eye on, that detour took a toll on our fuel supply and that’s not even accounting for the human fuel we’ll need to keep up with the virtual army of Asgardians outside that door.” He said with a half-hearted gesture. Stephen caught his hand in one of his quivering ones.

“I meant to suggest it last night, but… well, I thought it best to let everyone settle in first, and we still have to do inventory before any arrangements are made.” He paused, his free hand fiddled with the edge of his robe, one of his nervous tics. “However, a stop somewhere to refuel and restock this ship may be in everyone's best interests.”

Tony’s immediate reaction to bulk at being put even further off course was halted by the sense in the argument, the ship was hardly equipped as a commuter, and with even more mouths to feed the sparsely stocked fridge was looking all the more empty by the minute. In addition, they now had a few dozen aliens aboard, at least one had to know of somewhere safe for them to touch down and top up their reserved.

“I just… I hate not knowing.” He answered instead, already having made up his mind. After all, the more time away, the further distance from facing reality.

“I should know.” Stephen chuckled wryly, “but look at it this way, we could call it a first date?” he added promptly, knowing without asking what it was worrying the genius, his mind following a similar if not identical track. He ended his statement as more of a question, leaving Tony’s stomach-turning as it took in the implications.

He must have taken too long to respond as Stephen’s face went through a complicated series of emotions before shutting down suddenly, as it did his hand leaving Stark’s own.

“Unless, of course, I’ve misread the signals… I apologize.” He said stiffly, preparing himself to stand.

“It’s a date!” Tony said, in a rush. “I mean- a date will be good… To distract me, I mean...” His words fumbled and he was sure a blush was rising to his cheeks, but his face stayed serious.

“Good.” Responded Stephen, lips quirking up at the corners in a way that made Tony desperately want to kiss him, but he was already rising from the bed.

“Wear something nice for me, Stark.” He added over his shoulder as he left the room. Tony stared at his single pair of sweats, stained with blood, grease, and God knows what else.

_Wear something nice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space gaaayyysss <3
> 
> Thanks to Erja for well not keeping me sane but keeping me going and to Moki for making me write this fluff in the first place.
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	8. Chapter Eight

The dwarf planet that Nebula had eventually settled on bringing them to was like an odd crossing between an Asian marketplace and Diagon Alley; though when he mentioned such to Strange he got little more than an eye roll for his efforts. It was certainly a small planet, but what it lacked in surface area, it made up for in the multiple stories of buildings piled haphazardly atop one another.

The streets were narrow with each stack of buildings lined with a multitude of vendors, all pushing their wares onto passers-by with varying levels of success. They sold any number of things, from foreign fruits to apparently mystical amulets which had Stephen snorting in contempt.

Tony was particularly interested in the various stalls which were selling a slew of unidentifiable electronics. He saw one stall in particular that looked like it was offering actual hoverboards but was pulled away by Stephen’s guiding hand before he could get a closer look.

With Nebula as their guide their idea of a date had been dampened, but Strange was unrepentant in his hand casually resting on Tony’s hip as they strolled along. Leading to an awkward dance around some of the less anthropomorphised aliens but leaving a warm feeling in his chest all the while.

Tony had even - with some help from a kindly Asgardian woman - managed to come across some unstained clothes, which was a step up from the joggers he’d been wearing for nearly a week at the least.

Meanwhile, Stephen had clearly magicked up the dress shirt and slacks as, while they were nothing like the voluminous robes, they were a suspiciously similar colour and were clearly of Earthen make. He was far from upset, however, as seeing Stephen in casual clothing was something he would never quite get over.

_Nope, Never._ He mused, eying the man in question as he bent to retrieve a fallen toy for a small alien child. Said child smiled a wide grin of pointed teeth up at him in thanks before making off after their family with a wave of eight fingers. He shook his head at that and turned to Stephen instead, eying down the road where Nebula was arguing with a shop attendant.

Quickly he bounced on his toes and pecked Stephen on the lips, electing a soft smile from the sorcerer and the soft brush of a scarred hand on his cheek. The hand in question falling to meet one of his own smoothly as they turned and continued down the road, off to talk Nebula out of murder.

—

Except, things could never be quite so easy for them.

Talking Nebula down inevitably failed when she instead turned on them with fire in her eyes, leaving them with little more choice than to drag her kicking and screaming back to the ship.

They caused quite the scene all the while, because, while the cyborg had stopped hitting Tony once she was away from the scene, she did not stop screaming obscenities. The three of them drew the eyes of several passers-by.

In addition, Stephen’s Cloak had taken now to show up from wherever it had been and was weaving merrily between the two men like an overeager puppy looking for attention.

Thankfully, in the time they were gone Valkyrie had managed to find a viable fuel source to fill the ship’s tanks and the several Asgardians who had opted to shop had been much more successful than the three of them.

The stragglers returned almost simultaneously afterwards - news spreading fast - and brought with them word of an APB - or the space equivalent anyways - that was apparently put out on himself and the Sorcerer for their ‘kidnapping.’

This resulted in their exit requiring a tad more careful maneuvering than the norm to avoid the squad of space-cops, but with Valkyrie and Nebula for once working together at the controls it wasn’t long before they were back in open space.

Tony, who was now itching to tinker having seen so much new technology out there barely paused to squeeze Stephen’s hand once the ship had stopped in its tumbling. He sped off to his makeshift lab post haste, only to find it turned into an apparent playroom for the half dozen children on board.

He stopped in shock at their presence, but in observing one in particular reverse engineering a blaster decided his concern was unwarranted and instead approached the small figure like he would one of his bots, with questions and excitement.

“Where’d you learn how to do that kid?” He asked, bouncing his way to the workbench.

The child in question, a young girl with bright ginger hair and blue eyes looked up at him curiously, surveying him shortly before resuming in her work.

Figuring this was going to be more like working with his bots than he had even anticipated he shrugged and settled on a stool across from her.

He made a valiant attempt to not flinch when he was immediately afterwards accosted by Narvi and Vali, though by the girl’s sharp gaze snapping up he was pretty unsuccessful. Thankfully, he was promptly distracted by the boys asking him everything from if they were all criminals now to whether or not he and Stephen were a married couple.

To which he promptly fell off his stool, something which miraculously managed to distract the twins from their answer, but not the girl from her narrow-eyed stare, piercing in its intensity. Refusing to read into the sudden attention from a veritable toddler, he rolled the boys question over in his mind, getting lost in thoughts of the sorcerer instead.

—

_He walked up the steps to the main deck slowly, tugging at the sweater he had found in a subconscious motion. The grey turtleneck paired with some close fitted cargo pants he was wearing left him feeling horribly casual for a first date; especially as Stephen himself came into view, looking perfectly handsome in dressy slacks and a fitted shirt, but he refused to relinquish his swagger._

_Strutting up to Strange as if he was the one looking like a hundred bucks he gave Stephen a slow once over, stopping himself only just from going back for seconds._

_“Doesn’t someone clean up nice?” He smirked, quickly followed with, “And by that I mean what did you do, magic up your outfit?” He had to of, there were no other clothes in their size on this ship, Tony had been sure of that much._

_“What did you do, rob a thrift store for yours?” Was the rebuttal._

_“Rob from a dead man more like it.” He responded deadpan, and while it was something that had him feeling vaguely guilty only hours earlier now as Stephen tried to cover his laughter with a cough he felt good at least for making light of the situation._

_His thoughts halted in their downward spiral as Stephen’s hand rested on his arm, a satisfied smirk on his face. “ I could,” he waved his other hand demonstratively in Tony’s direction and while the thoughts of his own style were enticing he knew what the results would be if any magic were to be performed directly on his person and so he shook his head, not harshly._

_“Playing hard to get, can’t have the full nine yards yet Strange, you need to work your way up to see that.”_

_His smirk was only outweighed by Strange’s own as he leaned in for a slow kiss, close-mouthed and without heat, but bringing a healthy flush to their cheeks all the same._

_“Would this be the type of work you were referring to Dr Stark, because if so, the pleasure is all mine.”_

_His voice dropped an octave on pleasure, and the stirring in Tony’s gut responded accordingly. Unfortunately, it was at this moment they were interrupted by Nebula and her sharp tones telling them to get a move on._

_“I’d meant to tell you before you so effectively distracted me, Anthony,” Stephen said, apologetic but for the look in his eye. When the genius starred back nonplussed he grudgingly added, “She refused to take no for an answer. What would you have me do, try and stop her?”_

_Tony barely considered this, deciding in a moment that Stephen was quite right, refusing that woman anything would not go over well. A thought soon to be proven correct, though he didn’t know so at the time…_

_—_

Tony was brought out of his memories by a small hand on his knee, one belonging to the little redhead from earlier who held the gun in two separate pieces and sported an expression that spoke volumes.

With a soft smile at her as he calmed his suddenly racing heart - it was only a child after all, there was no reason to react like he had been attacked - he swooped her up in one swift movement. Setting her on the bench beside him, he allowed a moment for the girl to get comfortable before he got to work, words flowing freely, gestures wide and excited, finally he was in his element.

It was like that he passed the next several hours, tinkering away to the hum of childish questions, answering each in turn and explaining everything as he did it so they were able to follow along.

He never noticed the group of Asgardian woman who gathered to watch the genius seamlessly include their kids into his routine, all of whom left shortly after they came with smiles upon their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all a million times for reading this mess <3
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
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>  


	9. Chapter Nine

It had gotten quite late by the time his own near constant yawning drove him to put down his work and get some sleep. He wasn't sure exactly how late, seeing as time was more a construct in space than ever before, but the ship was silent and most of the children had been pulled away by apologetic parents ages ago. Left were only him and the tiny redhead whose name he had learned was Alva.

It didn't take someone with an off-the-charts IQ to deduct she had no one coming for her so with a quiet sigh that spoke volumes he lifted her up from where she'd passed out atop the workbench. Carefully he carried her across the room, setting her down on the cool leather bench built into the wall and rummaging around for a blanket to tuck her in with; brushing an errant lock of hair away from her face as he did so.

One last soft look in her direction and he was gone.

The halls were far from as empty as his labs, packed to the brim with supplies and Asgardians that had nowhere else. It was clear the ship wasn’t designed for this sort of passenger load but they made do.

Tony made it to the room he shared with Strange quickly, but quietly, observing the light spilling from under the door with interest. He pushed it open slowly a soft smile on his face for the man he expected to find resting easily.

“Hey, Houdini, how are you do- Stephen?” His light words turned sour.

Stephen was floating in the centre of the small space, an eerie replica of their time on Titan. This time, however, it was not his twitching head and twisting features that caught the genius in worry. It was the stream of tears sliding so blatantly down the sorcerer’s face.

His mouth was opening and closing, mouthing words he couldn’t begin to make out. Tony took a cautious step forward and when the sorcerer’s position didn’t change made short work of the rest of the distance. 

There was no glowing magic to this meditation, just the cloak, holding its master in the air with a sense of desperation that spoke volumes about how long this had gone on for. 

_If only he had come back to check on Stephen sooner._

He shook himself out of it, knowing that getting into guilt and self-blaming was not going to help snap Stephen out of it. Instead, he laid a gentle hand on the man's shoulder and was rewarded with a small muscle spasm for his efforts.

His touch, it seemed, was all it took to break whatever fragile hold on meditation was keeping Strange in this state; for in the next second the sorcerer dropped to the floor with a strangled noise of shock. Tony dropped with him, one hand still on his shoulder, the other grasping blindly for a hand to hold onto.

Then the sobbing started.

At first, it was low, almost indecipherable. Tony thought the sound could have been a lighthearted laughter even, but something deep in his gut told him differently. He grasped Stephen’s other shoulder, forcing the man to face him.

The Sorcerer's face was a mess, a myriad of emotions so complex he couldn’t begin to decipher them. So, instead of trying, he pulled the fractured neurosurgeon into his arms, letting the sharp angles of his face press tightly to his chest and soothing him with soft words.

He was petting Stephen’s soft head with an absent hand, wondering what more he could possibly do to help when the sorcerer spoke. 

“I died…” He whispered. The words were muffled, but Tony would recognize them by the dread they brought him any day.

“No Sweetheart you didn’t, you’re right here with me and you’re safe.” He promised.

“I did, I died... So many times Tony, I lost count… I lost count.” For the man with the eidetic memory, this was saying something.

He had sat up slightly by this stage, staring, frightened into Tony’s eyes. Still though he clutched at the genius, like he was afraid letting go would mean him lost forever.

“In the futures you mean? You died in your futures?” Asked Tony, needing more context to be of any comfort.

“No… in the past.” And his face was back, pressed against Tony’s chest as he shook. The sobs had subsided at least, but now all that remained was a cold terror he didn’t know what to do with.

“Stephen, baby, you have to give me more than that. You have to let me help you.” He said. 

“A- a year ago. In Hong Kong…” He started, his stutters on time with the shaking of his body.

Tony hadn’t taken note previously, hadn’t realized until his practised arms lifted the sorcerer easily into the air to relocate to the bed how little made up the man's lithe frame; how Stephen was hardly more than skin and bones.

“There was a power surge, a massive one, just about a year ago in the centre of Hong Kong. We never did find the source…” Tony tried, prompting.

“It was me, or… Dormmamu, he had come- he was summoned. I stopped him.” He said shakily, his voice was regaining confidence but still stopped and started. Unsure of himself, so unlike his normal, Tony suspected this was the first time he was putting his trauma into words. “I died to stop him, Anthony."

“But you were brought back?” He asked, unsure.

“The time stone, I had it, I trapped him in a loop, I trapped myself in a loop…” He stared at his hands, Tony didn’t need any more to extrapolate what had happened. This time it was his turn to grasp at Stephen, pulling him close in the belated scare of what could have been.

“You’re safe now, Stephen, I promise you. I will keep you safe.” He vowed, resting his head on top of the Doctor’s with a tender kiss to his hairline.

The cloak blanketed itself slowly around them, adding an extra layer of safety and protection to their hug, but Tony wasn’t quite finished yet. He sat back slightly, allowing the cloak to readjust itself with an indignant air before he spoke to Stephen.

“ You have to promise me something in return,” the Sorcerer’s head tilted up, eyes searching.

“I want you to promise me Doc that you will never keep something so serious bottled up inside of you like this, _ever_ again. Do you hear me?” He of all people knew the consequences of allowing fear to grow and fester inside.

“I- I’ll try,” Stephen spoke up, and Tony sighed but let it be, for it was the best he was going to get out of the stoic sorcerer.

In lieu of arguing anymore, he pulled Stephen down onto the mattress, still fully clothed. This time they lay facing each other, a mess of tangled limbs, Tony’s arms encircling the sorcerer in his scent- copper and motor oil mixed with the raspberry shampoo they’d found left in one of the bathrooms. That distinctive mix, so _Tony_ , kept Stephen from all harm, promising safety and security so long as they remained there, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this -
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
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> 
>  


	10. Chapter Ten

Tony’s eyes blinked slowly open as he sensed a movement beside him, Stephen, already awake was sitting up with a slow roll of his shoulders.  
  
He’s already subconsciously smiling up at the sorcerer when the man turns to face him. Quickly, before he had chance to turn away Tony leveraged an arm beneath his body so as to lean up and kiss the Doctor. It’s a short kiss, with him still half asleep and his companion still slightly off-kilter from the night previous, but it’s sweet, full of promise.  
  
Tony has to huff as an attempt to deepen the kiss is met by the scratchy tickling sensation of Stephen’s bird nest of a beard. The sorcerer looks like he hasn’t shaved since they boarded this godforsaken ship and he says so without thinking.  
  
“Mm.. Yes, well, unfortunately this particular spacecraft didn’t come equipped with electric razors.” He spoke, voice a soft timber.  
  
“Why would you ne- oh, yeah I can see how that would be a problem now…” Tony said.  
  
He hesitated, considering his options before continuing.  
  
“Well, you could have asked me, Sabrina.” He said, gesturing between himself and the neurosurgeon as he went on. “Us, we’re awesome facial hair bros, and that means we stick together.” He finished, a smirk firmly in place.  
  
“While I rather thought we’d moved passed bros to boyfriends, I would be glad to accept if this is your way of offering, Tony.” Strange replied in his ever-present calm sincerity.  
  
It was only the hint of teasing in his tone that let on how he knew exactly what the genius was doing joking around and, in fact, appreciated him making light of the situation.  
  
—  
  
Tony Stark had lots of experience being on the receiving end of a stylist in his lifetime, but never had he been the one holding the razor to someone else's neck.  
  
It was remarkably nerve-racking, but he had already offered and they were already sitting in the small bathroom, Stephen’s face buried under a mountain of shaving cream. He took in a deep breath and was bolstered by the sorcerer's hand finding his own free one, squeezing it in reassurance; steadied by the solid trust that shone in Stephen’s eyes.  
  
Slow going at first eventually graduated to confident strokes of the razor across Stephen’s chiselled chin. He perhaps spent more time admiring the sorcerer’s face than strictly necessary, but if Stephen’s relaxed posture was any indication, he didn’t mind in the slightest.  
  
It was an oddly intimate affair, shaving for someone else. The level of trust required was alarmingly enormous. Yet, somehow in the short week and a half since they’d met, the two had gone above and beyond that level and never once did Stephen flinch at the blade coming so close to such vital veins.  
  
Tony rewarded that trust with a fair approximation of the neurosurgeon’s goatee; though it was possibly closer to the billionaires own signature look than the sorcerer may have gone for on his own. The man in question only took a short moment to inspect his work in the mirror before he turned on Tony with a wide smile and ducked low for a slow, stirring kiss.  
  
“Thank you, Anthony.” He murmured as they separated for a breath of air. His voice was low, almost a humming through the air, Tony could feel it in his bones. He kissed Stephen again in lieu of a response, licking into his mouth and enjoying the quiet moan he got in return.  
  
Stephen was practically on top of his lap, long arms looped around the billionaire’s shoulders. He was half straddling Tony’s knees where he sat on top the toilet; and where the genius once might have thought he’d feel trapped in such a position, he felt only safe - protected. He dug his fingers into the soft hair at the back of the neurosurgeon’s neck as Stephen deepened the kiss, pulling him closer yet.  
  
They may have gone further in that moment, had they not been taking up one of the only toilets in the entire ship. However, since that was exactly what they were doing they were separated shortly by a knocking on the door.  
  
Glancing at his partner, who was looking as dishevelled and absolutely wrecked as he felt, he burst out laughing. Stephen joining in as they gathered their not-belongings with short banter and stolen kisses. They left the room hand-in-hand, feeling lighter than air and ready as ever to face the day ahead.  
  
—  
  
The day passed slowly, the problems of their guests keeping them both busy well into the night.  
  
Stephen was off checking up with the Asgardians who had been in immediate need of medical aid back when they boarded; rewrapping bandages and assessing what would need more treatment.  
  
Tony meanwhile, took care of more technical needs, from the logistics of distributing their food supply to jerry-rigging some comm devices for those few appointed in positions of command.  
  
It was militaristic the way the ship ended up running, which suited the Asgardians just fine, even if it left Tony twitching every time someone called him Sir.  
  
He was sat with four of the five appointed leaders, not including himself, in a meeting of sorts, towards the end of the night. It was one they now held daily.  
  
They had, after much discussion the night of arrival, come into appointed roles that left him both baffled by Asgardian efficiency and vaguely jealous of the ease of it. Organization of the Avengers had never been so pain-free to put together, at least not for him.  
  
Valkyrie was at the head of the table, she was also in charge of keeping the calm. It was an appointment heavily contested by their resident cyborg, but won over by the respect and sway she held with the Asgardians.  
  
Nebula herself, who sat as far as possible from their chief of security, was in charge of navigation, though it was nothing she hadn’t been doing before; she had stringently refused to accept any extra responsibility.  
  
Engrid was a tall blonde Asgardian with steely eyes who had readily taken over food supply and distribution, taking to it with an ease that spoke of practice, though she was a woman of few words.  
  
Magn, on the other hand, a greying, green-eyed man was as soft as a teddy bear, despite his immediate appearance, and took on the position of caretaker to the children like a fish to water. His own son Gudmund having been lost in the flames of Asgard’s downfall.  
  
Together with Tony as their tech guy and Strange as magical and medical aid they made a good team - if perhaps a rather mismatched one. Though as Nebula for the third time launched herself across the table to get at Valkyrie for a misplaced word on robots, he had to hope that they would reach Earth sooner rather than later.  
  
By the time the meeting was done, Strange had shown, timing impeccable and more than slightly suspicious. Though he was immediately distracted from commenting by a lazy hand carding itself through his hair.  
  
“How was the meeting?” Strange murmured a moment later. Bringing him back.  
  
“You would know had you been here and not out playing Doctor.” He shot back with a yawn towards the end, leaning back into the attention Stephen was providing him.  
  
“Is it really playing Doctor, if you are a Doctor?” Was the response, more wondering than snarky. They were both exhausted.  
  
“It would be if I were to try it.” He mumbled, pulling Strange half-way into his lap where he sat on the bench side of the communal table. Stephen came willingly, leaning his head on the billionaire’s chest with a sigh.  
  
“When I talk medicine you talk back at me in mechanics.” He paused to turn a little, allowing Tony to see the soft grin plastered on his face. “Please don’t ever play at being a medical professional, Darling, I don’t want to be responsible for the results.” He continued, even as Tony froze at the affection.  
  
Stephen hardly took a second to source out the root of his distress.  
  
“If pet names are too much I can stick to Anthony. I only assumed after last night…” He trailed off. Tony was left thinking back to what he’d said, _Sweetheart, baby,_ he was in deep and he knew it if he was using pet names unconsciously.  
  
“Don’t stop.” He said.  
  
Stephen hummed, though was unable to respond as Tony continued.  
  
“Except, I thought we’d already covered what happens to he who makes assumptions.” Voice teasing, he thought back to that argument. It was the first of what would one day be many he thought, but there was no other way he’d have it.  
  
“We had indeed, but with an ass as good as yours I think I can survive.” He smirked, shifting closer yet.  
  
 _Indeed_ , Tony thought, dropping a kiss to the crown of Stephen’s head rather than offering up any response. —There was nowhere else he would rather be.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter full of fluff for you all to enjoy <3
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	11. Chapter Eleven

Despite their every good intention, all the meetings, the planning- time passed. Slowly but surely. With the passing of time rose the tensions of everyone on-board.  
  
People were hungry, Asgardian and Human alike. Though Engrid has been strict with rationing what they had, their quick exit from the marketplace-planet hadn’t helped matters and to put it simply, they were running out of food.  
  
In-fighting was less common than hunger complaints, but just as disruptive. Especially when Valkyrie ran through the last of the booze. Sober her methods of dealing with altercations became harsher and involved a lot more cussing, often ending in more violence than resolutions.  
  
Worst of all, the lovely children of Asgard who had once been of such high spirits were now responding to their situation more like the children of Earth Tony knew and loathed.  
  
There was crying and tantrums and more often than not a harried Mother asking him to do something about it.  
  
Alva herself, the darling girl, was more subtle in her unease, opting to cling to Tony like a virtual spider-monkey night and day. She had spent the last couple of days aboard all but glued to his side and still hadn’t spoken a word to anyone.  
  
Stephen and Tony were rare to get a moment alone as Alva went as far as stubbornly refusing to sleep unless he was there, and despite themselves, the two found that they could never quite refuse the orphaned little girl anything.  
  
As it turned out, their little trip to restock the ship ended up adding several days to their already week long estimate. So it was that by the time they were within a day and a half from Earth all of them had been cooped up for nearly two weeks; cabin fever didn’t even begin to describe what they were all feeling.  
  
So Tony couldn’t blame them for high tensions and low tolerance, not when he himself would have snapped several days ago had it not been for the support of Strange. A constant calm presence, presumably learned from years in high-pressure work as a neurosurgeon, he was a rock, a pillar of strength bearing Tony through the storm.  
  
Except, Stephen couldn’t be with him all of the time.  
  
Whenever he was off, providing medical aid or diffusing situations Valkyrie had only succeeded in elevating, Tony was left on his own to face the masses. Unfortunately, occurring more often than not as time went by.  
  
Tony on several instances was pushed near his breaking point in the past week, but as it turned out, Nebula became his saving grace. She popped up out no nowhere anytime he was about ready to lose it and employed some frankly masterful tactics of evasion to get him out of there and allow him the breathing room he so desperately needed.  
  
It was almost caring of her, though he’d never say as much within her range of hearing- which, as a current unknown, meant that he kept his thoughts to himself.  
  
—  
  
Currently, he was attempting to fix the communicator Valkyrie had crushed in her latest fight. Though she had portrayed the casualty as an accident, his report from Stephen had involved a lot more smashing over the head than hers and he knew who he trusted better of the two.  
  
Loathe as he was to repair something broken out of rash behaviour after his time with the rogue Avengers. Time in the lab, where he went largely undisturbed, was a better alternative to standing around on the main deck waiting for some Asgardian to grace him with their so-called urgent issues.  
  
Such problems to this date included a misplaced bracer, a roommate in desperate need of washing up, and best yet, a request for entertainment. The last one, he was sad to say, ending in some choice words on how entertaining it would be to drop the bastard out the airlock.  
  
Little Alva was perched beside him, occasionally poking a wire into place with an uncanny precision. He’d already accepted she was one of his science brats and watching her made him long for the boy he’d left behind. _The one he’d lost._  
  
He wondered over Harley back on Earth, whether the boy was still making badass potato guns or if he had faded the way of poor Peter. He was thankful when his redheaded companion pulled him from his melancholy before he could get any further; her head snapping up and her expression brightening in a way that only meant one thing.  
  
“Darling.”  
  
“Strange.”  
  
He turned, a smile already plastered on his face to meet the sorcerer. Alva waved shyly from her perch as Stephen leaned in, taking hold of Tony’s arm with one hand and ruffling her hair with the other as he gave the genius a gentle kiss on the cheek. Listening as Stephen laughed at the little girl when she wrinkled her nose in protest. A sound that was better than music to Tony’s tired ears.  
  
“How are you doing with the repairs?” He asked.  
  
“Well _I_ haven’t been doing much at all, this right here is the work of my little helper.” He said, enjoying Alva’s frantic motions to deny his words.  
  
One of the Mothers had been teaching her what the Asgardian equivalent for sign language was as her refusal to speak more than a word seemed to be staying for the time being.  
  
Stephen, the show-off, had picked up reading it with a speed only an eidetic memory could achieve, although his signing left much to be desired. Tony himself had less success but was able to understand the basics well enough, having popped in for a class when it was clear the girl was sticking around.  
  
Neither of them had much of an idea what they would do when they reached Earth a little over a day from now, but she was well loved by the Asgardians and he was sure she’d find a great home. He stoutly ignored the churning of his gut whenever he thought of it.  
  
Tony turned to Stephen in earnest with a short shake of his head, they had other things to focus on. Like where on Earth they were going to touch down.  
  
“Any progress with communication?” He asked, referring to the scrying spells Stephen had been attempting once it was clear distance had no effect on their on-board technology.  
  
“None. The good news is the barrier around Earth is still intact, the bad news is it means no communication will be getting through to anyone prior to our arrival.” He responded, frustration leaking into his tone.  
  
“I was thinking and the compound, as volatile a location as it could be, might be our best bet. It was deemed international grounds by the UN meaning our guests would have at least a temporary immunity. We’ll also have the best means of assessing the situation from there.” He explained.  
  
“This assuming it was not made ground zero for the fighting,” Stephen responded.  
  
“We’re already asses, might as well go for it.” Tony smirked, continuing their joke to the rolling eyes of his companions. Alva had picked it up from Stephen, he was sure of it.  
  
The man in question turned serious for a second as he seemed to ponder their choices, but Tony knew his mind was made up. They’d had this conversation on numerous occasions, and while Stephen would have liked to touch down at Kamar-Taj he could also admit the faults in such a plan.  
  
“Mm… Well then, I suppose all that’s left now is to inform Nebula.” He said, reaching a hand to link it with one of Tony’s own.  
  
Tony lifted Alva easily with his free arm, following the sorcerer’s steady lead, all while bracing himself for that which was to come. It would not be enjoyable, but they would bear the burden of the future together and in that way, Tony knew he could face anything.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly at the end - some more Alva for those of you that adored her.
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
> 
> 
>  


	12. Chapter Twelve

They were hours from entering the outer atmosphere of Earth. After almost two and a half weeks aboard the Milano, they had finally made it.  
  
The complaints and morose attitudes among the Asgardians had lifted, anticipation lighting the spirits of everyone aboard. Even Nebula sported a light in her eyes that spoke volumes of her feelings on the matter - though she was as emotionless as ever on the outside.  
  
Joy and promise were prominent in the air, everyone was excited - all except for in the two tired humans who knew what was coming.  
  
—  
  
Tony and Stephen had finally found some time to themselves, though both knew that it was only the calm before the storm. They sat together in one of the command chairs, staring out at Earth as it grew to fill the view screen.  
  
Stephen was running a shaking hand through his soft curls and in return Tony had the other hand held in a soft massage - one that left the sorcerer breathless before him.  
  
It was a testament to the level trust they had reached that Strange even allowed him to touch his trauma-sensitive hands as he was, but for such a short time spent together the bond between them only grew by the day.  
  
It was silent but for the dull hum of the engines and the quiet conversation among the lower decks where most of their guests had gathered in some sort of Asgardian mass.  
  
Valkyrie had explained it as a way to commune with the Norns after Tony had scoffed at the idea of Gods praying to God - though what the Norns even were he didn’t have the first clue.  
  
As lost as he was in thought and the prayer that rose from below it came out of the blue when Stephen spoke, his voice little more than a whisper.  
  
“What we have here, it doesn’t end when this ship sets down on Earth, Tony.”  
  
“I- Of course it doesn’t.” He responded, caught off guard by Stephen’s sudden proclamation.  
  
“We’ll have to find a home for the Asgardians, we both thought Norway would be a good choice, right? And then there’s-“ He continued, misinterpreting the sorcerer’s words.  
  
“I meant us, Darling.” He smirked. “And I don’t mean because some stone showed me we were meant to be,” he paused, finding his words. “I want you for who you are and what you’ve been to me in these short weeks, not for what we could be.” He finished, conviction in his words that made Tony’s throat close up.  
  
“Though I wouldn’t mind if that’s where we ended up.” He added a sly look on his face that made Tony want to take him right there, where anyone could walk in and witness it.  
  
Instead, he shifted slightly to face Stephen properly. Taking a breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say.  
  
“I don’t know how this has become my life, or what I did to deserve it, but I haven’t felt this serious about anyone in years and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon, Stephen.” For once serious.  
  
“I’m not sure what this is would be called healthy by any qualified medical professional, hell I’m even less sure it’s not just some crazy fever dream I’ll wake up from any second now, but what I do know is that you, Elphaba, have given me hope.” He paused, not even needing to look to know Stephen had rolled his eyes at the new moniker.  
  
“Without you here... I don’t know what I would have done, I still don’t know what I’ll do, but I know I’ll be with you every step of the way and that right there gives me hope - something I haven’t had for a long time. So thanks, Strange.” He finished lamely, ducking his head a bit.  
  
“While I am quite qualified, I doubt I’m what you would consider objective in this. I can only hope, Tony, that this isn’t some subliminal trick of the mind. That I in fact died back on Titan and this is only a method for my mind to cope…” He paused, collecting his thoughts.  
  
“Mm.. but Tony, you are truly everything I could have ever wanted, and be this an illusion or reality, I will forever be better having lived it with you.” His eyes were intense and suddenly they were kissing, long and desperate, but without much heat.  
  
Tony soon pulled back, but only to bury his face in the crook of Stephen’s neck where he hoped the robes would adequately absorb his tears.  
  
He didn’t know what he was crying for; those already lost — _Poor Peter, so innocent in everything_ — or maybe for those he had yet to lose — _Pepper, Happy, Harley, Rhodes…_ He had a slew of people back home who he didn’t know had survived - who didn’t know he had survived.  
  
Perhaps even, his tears were brought on by joy, stemmed from the love he had for those he’d been so lucky as to find along the way— _Stephen, who had become so much to him in so little time. Little Alva, his angel caught in the crossfire of a world-ending event. Even Nebula, who had shown him kindness in the most converse ways._  
  
A gentle hand under his chin guided his shining eyes to meet an equally watery pair, but Stephen was smiling despite himself. His scarred hands swiped softly at Tony’s tears and closed around the back of the billionaire’s neck as he returned the favour.  
  
When Tony’s hands dropped uselessly to his lap he felt Stephen give him an affection filled kiss on his forehead, his own coming down to meet it. They sat like that for a long while, ignoring Nebula’s scoff and several women cooing as they walked by.  
  
For the time being, they could relax in the solace of one another, supporting each other without the need for any more words, notions of trust and safety solid in their hearts.  
  
Only Alva coming to join them forced the two apart, and only long enough for the little girl to settle in-between them. Together the three sat in a silence that spoke of promise, of hope and of coming home.  
  
Nothing short of the end of the world could have separated them from their peace and happiness in those precious seconds; if only that wasn’t exactly what they were up against.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End has finally arrived - sorry for the wait everyone.  
>   
> I hope you all enjoyed my first foray into the land of fanfiction. While I am planning a sequel for this fic I can't say when or if it will ever get off the ground, only that if I do write it that it'll be after the release of A4 when I have a decently set plot to mess around with.  
>   
> I'd like to again thank my incredible betas Erja and Moki for their contributions, their creativity and most of all their friendship.  
>   
> In addition, this would have never gotten started had it not been for IronStrange HQ on discord so if you aren't already a part of that wonderful insanity I implore you to go join up.  
>   
> Any and all updates regarding the future of this fic and any others I might have up my sleeve will be available via my Tumblr
> 
> [LoonyLilyTheLunatic](https://loonylilythelunatic.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> ~ Thanks for the Memories, Lily
>
>> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokisaur>  
> <https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrxnStrxnge/pseuds/IrxnStrxnge>  
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>  


End file.
